A Bleeding Wound That Never Heals
by Blurred Memories
Summary: When her ability to feel any love for Laurent is gone forever Therese calls into question her entire existence. Was it really only hatred she felt for Camille and Madame Raquin? Will the shadows of the past ever stop haunting her? Will she ever be forgiven? Will she lose her mind for good? Therese's perspective on the movie events. ONE SHOT.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, this is just for fun.

 _"That woman is dying of a broken heart, from a bleeding wound that never heals"_ is actually a quote from the movie.

 **AN:** English is not my first language so you may come across some mistakes, sorry about that. If you spot any please feel free to point them out and I'll correct them right away.

 _"Under The Water"_ by The Pretty Reckless kept me inspired while I was writing this.

* * *

There was a time I used to welcome all my dreams, sweet dreams and nightmares alike; their richness filled my sleep and I was soon addicted. I would always find myself wishing for them to come to me at nightfall.

Truth be told, I couldn't wait to fall asleep and meet the bewitching figures that would emerge from the shadows behind my eyelids. To numb reality for a while, that's the power of all dreams.

On nights like this, however, I dread all I craved before.

The smothering sense of guilt tightens its grip around my throat, it also steers my dreams now.

There's no solace, not for me, not after what I've done.

Tonight's not different from the last.

Tonight Camille's ghost will come find me again.

I lay my head on the soft pillow, resisting the urge to bury my face in it and let the sobs take over me. I'm facing away from Laurent and I feel his dark eyes leaving burning trails upon the exposed skin of my back.

 _Please don't touch me,_ I find myself mentally begging him. _I can't stand your touch anymore._

He's hesitating, I can tell. I can almost picture him reaching out, his fingertips stopping mere inches away from my heated flesh. He slowly lowers his hand a few interminable seconds later.

My skin has spoken, my skin has whispered to his: stay away.

I hear the rustle of bed sheets as he turns the other way.

We're back to back, not touching. So close, yet so very far apart.

I have given up. He has given up.

My eyelids drop shut.

 **oOo**

Water. I'm submerged in deep dark water.

I look up. A dazzling light kisses the surface, tiny gleams of it float above my head but I'm not chasing after them.

I'm not coming up for air. I'm drowning.

I try to shake my limbs but they're so heavy... Something's dragging me down, the blackness is about to swallow me whole.

Long seaweeds tinged with a deep shade of sickening green latch onto my thin wrists, I struggle against them but they enchain my ankles as well. My entire body is soon wrapped in them until we become a single tangled mess.

The seaweeds come at me from every direction and I'm desperately trying to tear them off but it's useless. They reach out like tentacles but they slice my skin like claws. Drops of blood soon rise up to meet the floating particles of light; deep red meets white on a background of spilled ink.

I found myself unable to breathe.

Air, I need air. Now!

As water enters my lungs I start to panic.

I squirm and struggle, frantic to wiggle out of the slimy net. But then suddenly... I stop. I let my body be swayed by the current; I just can't fight it anymore.

My glassy eyes stare into the darkness.

I know he's coming.

My long auburn hair float in circles around my head as I spin around looking for him.

And there he stands. Camille, poor sweet Camille.

The ghostly white skin of his familiar face stands out against the pitch dark that dwells on the bottom of the river. The slick hair I used to find gross and revolting is parted to the side of his head, just like I remember. His thin lips are stained blue, his cheekbones are bruised and purplish fingerprints adorn his thin neck.

I can picture Laurent's hands clutching that very same neck, clamping it in a smothering vise. All of this has been Laurent's doing but the hands encircling Camille's throat might as well have been mine because I didn't stop it.

I let it happen, I let them fight, I let one man kill the other; for me.

Until the last moment, Camille kept looking at me with his pleading eyes, silently begging me to help him, to save him.

I did not.

I just watched him. I watched him spend his last breath fighting to stay afloat, to no avail; it didn't take long for the blackness to engulf him.

His light blue eyes are dull now, red-rimmed with dark circles around them.

He points a skinny finger wrapped in seaweeds at me. I don't need to hear the words spoken, there's no need for him to voice his accusation; I already know.

Murderer.

I am a murderer.

 **oOo**

I jerk up on the bed into a sitting position, gasping for air. As my shaking hands reach up to my throat my nails start to graze my skin frantically.

Laurent is awake, somewhere in the distance I hear faint words of reassurance. "It was just a nightmare, Therese, just a nightmare!"

I slowly turn my head so that my watery eyes can bear into his worried orbs.

"Was it, Laurent?" My voice barely above a whisper. "Was it really just a nightmare? That nightmare is nothing other than reality to us by now."

The palm of his hand meets the small of my back through the flimsy material of my nightgown while his other hand wipes away the glistening beads of sweat from my brow. I froze under his unwelcome touch. Funny how my body's response has changed; his touch used to make me shudder in pleasure not so long ago.

"Shh, I'm here love," Laurent whispers in my ear.

He grips my chin firmly and kisses me roughly but I don't kiss him back, not like I used to do. I just press my lips together and I push hard with my hands against his broad chest. He doesn't budge, so I bite him.

"Fuck!" He cries out as he pulls away at once. He brushes a fingertip across his bottom lip and it comes away stained red. He stares at it, bewildered.

"What the hell Therese?! What's wrong with you?"

"You killed him..."

"Oh for God's sake, there you go again." He lets out a deep sigh. "To be exact _we_ killed him, and to be even more specific it was _your_ idea in the first place!"

I breathe in sharply; he's right, no matter how bad I wish he wasn't.

"I... just wanted to be with you."

"Exactly! That's why we did it, and now nothing stands in our way. Yet here we are, fighting once again."

"He was a good man... he didn't deserve to die. Not for me. Not for us."

"Well, it's a little too late for that now, isn't it? Listen to yourself: _He was a good man_." He mocks me. "And what about all the things you said when he was alive? Do you remember, Therese?"

Memories of spiteful words flood my mind, vicious words that crossed my very own lips.

And I remember.

I remember Camille's tentative touch on my skin, how it used to annoy me.

I remember hearing him cough all the time, how it used to drive me insane.

I remember his clumsy attempts at loving me and how miserably he failed.

I craved the strong arms of a real man, I had no use for the scrawny ones of a sickly child. I needed to feel alive after spending almost all my life cloaked in numbness. I wanted someone to show me what it was like, that passionate living I had only read about. I needed just that in order to cherish it forevermore.

When Laurent crossed the threshold of our home all my wishes came true, or so I thought.

"Say his name." Laurent's demanding voice brings me back to our bedroom.

"What?"

"Say. His. Name."

"No! It's bad enough we have to keep that portrait of yours in here. I have to see his eyes every goddamn day, and when I'm asleep he comes to visit in my dreams. I'm tired of being constantly reminded of what we've done, Laurent!"

"God, he's gone, Therese! Camille's gone!" A shiver runs down my spine as he dares say his name out loud. "Listen... I love you, okay? You know I do. You're my wife now and I your husband, it's all we've ever wanted. We must let him go so that we can finally be happy."

"You said the nightmares would stop after our wedding." We hold each other's gaze, the warm golden flecks in my green pools meet the obsidian coldness of Laurent's eyes. "You lied. They still haunt me, and I know they haunt you too. We'll never be free."

Laurent shifts towards the edge of the bed, turning his back on me.

"I stopped having them, so will you."

I can't see his face but his voice gives away the fact that he doesn't truly believe it.

"The hell you did! Your nails dig into my flesh when you're asleep, you scream so much your throat is raw before the sun comes up."

I get up and reach for the light brown shawl draped across the chair beside the bed. I get into my slippers and I wrap the shawl around my shoulders, relishing its welcome softness against my skin.

"Where are you going?" Laurent asks from over his shoulder. "It's still early."

I turn around and fix my eyes on the back of his neck, on the dark waves of silky hair that lay there, and I think about all sort of things I'd like to tell him. I part my lips as if to speak but decide against it and quietly leave the room instead.

 **oOo**

My trembling hand lingers on the door handle of the adjacent bedroom, the twinkling of my wedding ring catches my eye for the briefest moment before the door opens.

The room is bathed in the pastel light of dawn seeping in through the windows. I take a few steps around the bed and I stop, looking down on the figure lying underneath the blankets.

She's awake.

Her hazel eyes meet mine and all of a sudden I realize she has heard everything. She sees me for who I am, at last, my true colors have never been more vibrant.

Oh gosh, isn't it ironic? We've been so careful. We guarded our secret so well no one ever suspected us and then we gave it all away yelling at each other. Furthermore, she of all people has heard us. Well, it's not like she can tell a soul now, is it? She'll manage to slur something incoherent at best. After the stroke she cannot speak properly, we just get twitches of her mouth and a few drawled words.

She still can control her eyes though. Oh, the things I've seen flashing across those orbs throughout the years...

Wariness - the day my father left me in her care, never to return.

Hatred - every time she was reminded of my perfect health opposite to her son's sickness.

Malice - the times she spoke ill of the mother I've never known.

Eerie enthusiasm - the day _she_ decided _I_ would marry Camille.

Blinding rage, boundless grief - the day Camille died and I survived.

I can still feel her fists crashing down on my chest over and over again, her shaky voice demanding to know how I had managed to survive and leave him behind to rot away alone. I thought she was going to kill me.

And now she wants revenge; I'm sure she'll find a way to settle the score and make me pay, little does she know I'm already paying for my sins _._

She's judging me but I won't have any of that, she has a guilty conscience too for the way she treated me in the past.

I too have died in a way because of her.

I too have the right to seek revenge, and maybe I'll do just that.

"Good morning, Madame," I say showing off my best smile. "You slept well, I trust."

 **oOo**

Kneeling on the cold teal tiles that cover the bathroom's floor, I lean against the edge of the white bathtub resting my chin on my left arm; a mischievous glint in my eyes. My fingers play idly with a piece of cloth floating upon the soapy water.

"I remember the first time I saw you, you know," I muse without glancing at her. "You looked intimidating, to say the least, sitting at the dining room table with Camille on your lap. I kept staring at my feet as my father spoke but I stole furtive glances at you whenever I could. You just stood there, a wary expression on your austere face, holding your son closer to your chest. I was foolish to believe you would treat me like a daughter, I figured that out soon enough."

A sad smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I brush my index finger against the pale skin of her upper arm. I guess her body would stiffen now if only she could control it. Here she is... in a bathtub filled with water, completely at my mercy. I could do anything and she wouldn't even stand a chance; that must feel scary, yet I'm unable to take pity on her.

"Do you have any idea what it felt like? I lost my father and the hope of meeting a loving aunt on the same day. You made me feel unwanted, you made me feel like I wasn't good enough... a poor outcast girl, only good at nursing your sick son! And when it came to marry him, did I get a choice? No! It was my life, damn you!"

I grip her shoulders with force and, in the blink of an eye, her whole body is underwater. Her tiny frame is still as it was seconds ago, like she's already drowned. She isn't fighting me off, how could she? But her son did, he definitely did. He thrashed and struggled against the waves until the very end, but Laurent's fury was relentless.

The whitish water hides her eyes away from my searching stare.

I could kill her, I really could.

I'm already killing her.

My nails dig into her soft flesh under the water.

 _Therese! Help me, Therese!_

I flinch.

I loosen my grip.

I let go.

Her flushed face resurfaces, red-rimmed eyes search for mine.

Tears fill my eyes and tumble down my pale cheeks as I bring her torso up to meet mine. My arms encircle her skinny shoulders and I whisper faintly in her ear: "I hate you, like I hated your son; yet... a part of me loves you as it used to love him. Yes, I did love him in a way and I regret having him killed."

I laugh at myself. "I broke the old chains only to have them replaced by brand new ones, can you believe it? My love for Laurent vanished the moment Camille's blood stained his hands and yet I have no other choice but to stay with him forever now. How could I not? He has killed for me."

I stroke her wet hair in a tentative gesture that surprises us both.

And I shed bitter tears.

And I beg her like I never begged anyone in my entire life.

"You have to forgive me. Please, forgive me."

I can hardly believe my own words now, my strained voice makes me sound so pathetic.

 _Forgive me?_ I don't want her forgiveness! But I need it, I need her to ease my sense of guilt otherwise I'll lose my mind.

"Please, if you could just..." My voice breaks and I hold her tighter as I chew on my lower lip coated with salty tears. "Will you forgive me?"

I know she cannot answer me; even so, I wait. I wait for her to give me the slightest of signs.

I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, mine goes along with hers.

After what felt like an eternity her head moves, almost imperceptibly at first. It slightly brushes against the side of my face and that's all it takes for me to get what she means.

She's shaking her head no.

When I pull away I see the old familiar expression that welcomed me into her house many years ago; harsh, austere. Her glassy eyes are cold and unforgiving. Once again her judgment strikes me like a blade being plunged between my ribs and buried in my throbbing heart. All hope is lost.

Her eyes won't say no.

They say never.

Feral screams are born within my lungs; I set them free.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading :)**


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